


4386 miles away

by JohnlockTheDoctor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: America, Fluff, Grieving John, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Moving Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2130216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnlockTheDoctor/pseuds/JohnlockTheDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary's dead and John's done with it all. He's moving away. He's moving to America.</p>
            </blockquote>





	4386 miles away

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from an anon on Tumblr:  
> [Could you do something where John tries to move to America in hopes to forget everything that has happened but before he can board the plane Sherlock stops him? Can it be really really fluffy too? Thanks c:]

He was packing his bags. He was angry. With life and.. _probably_ with me. “J-John? Where are you going?”. He spun around and glared at me. “Away from here and away from _you!”,_ he shouted at the top of his voice, grabbing a book off his bedside table and throwing it towards his bag. “Is this about Mary?”, I said quietly, readying myself for his rage to spill over. I know talking about Mary would anger him, but I didn’t know what else to say. “Not everything is about _Mary”,_ he spat, turning away from me to continue to pack his bag. “It’s not your fault she died John and.. it’s not mine either. She was at the wrong place at the wrong time”, I said softly, trying to calm him. He clenched his fists and turned around slowly, walking towards me, “John, lets just calm d-“. He grabbed me by the shirt and slammed me up against the wall, “calm down! _Calm down!”,_ he screamed at the top of his voice, “does everyone I love die? Do they Sherlock?! Is she _really_ dead?!”. I swallowed nervously, not in fear of John, more in fear of how I would anger him more, “I checked. Thoroughly. She’s dead John and.. I’m not. I’m still here”. He dropped his hands and laughed softly, “get out Sherlock. Just get out”. I didn’t want to give up, but John could easily beat me in a fight if fists got involved, so I left him to it. 

I walked downstairs and sat on the sofa, thinking. Mary had died. It wasn’t on purpose, she’d just got in the way of Moriarty’s plans, she was just someone in his way, his plans weren’t to kill John’s wife. He just did and now John blames himself. He also blames me for not being with her. He asked me to stay with her but I ran off with him. I wasn’t going to stay in and babysit whilst I missed out on the chase! But still he blamed me, for not being there to protect her. I told her to come with me but she was too stubborn to listen, as usual. It wasn’t my fault and it wasn’t his either. 

John thumped down the stairs, pulling his suitcase with him. The tremor in his hand had come back. He couldn’t leave. I wouldn’t let him. “John.. I don’t want you to leave”, I said, standing up. He just shrugged and walked towards the door but I got there first, blocking the exit. “You can’t just.. _leave_ me on my own again”, I said, almost sounding like I was begging for him to stay. Though I didn’t beg. “Why not?”, he said, glaring at me. I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out. “Well?”, he prompted me. “I-I.. because _I.._ you and I are, _well..”,_ I stammered. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t admit my feelings for him, it was a sign of weakness. “Get out of my way”, he almost growled and I stepped aside, hanging my head in what felt like shame. “John, I-“, I tried to say. My heart was screaming at me to finish the sentence. _I love you. I love you John._ But it wouldn’t come out, my brain wouldn’t send those 2 missing words to my lips. John just sighed and walked down the stairs. He slammed the front door on his way out and my knees suddenly buckled. I slid down the wall and sat down against it. A single tear rolled down my cheek. _Sentiment._ I missed him already.

Mrs Hudson found me about an hour later. I was still sitting in the same place, except one tear had turned into many. “You’re just going to give up? Let him go? The Sherlock Holmes I know wouldn’t just let him leave”, she said softly, standing in front of me, “go and get him Sherlock and tell him how you feel”. I looked up at her and wiped my tears away, “he made me cry. I don’t cry”. She laughed softly and I scowled. This was not _funny!_ This was a serious matter, “you don’t have long Sherlock. He’ll board that flight within the hour”. I jumped up on my feet, _“flight?”._ Her eyes widened, “didn’t he tell you? He’s moving abroad. America”. 

I ran down the stairs and out the door. America? _America?!_ That was approximately 4386 miles away from me. He couldn’t do that. I needed him. He grounded me. He kept me sane. He saved my life, multiple times. I didn’t need the drugs anymore. I needed John Watson. “TAXI”, I yelled as yet another drove past me. A black car pulled up and I threw the door open and jumped in, “Mycroft, take me to John, _now!”._ Mycroft turned around from the passenger seat and grinned smugly, “you know what we say when we ask for something brother dear”. I clenched my fists, _“please!_ Just drive! Now”. Mycroft nodded his head and the chauffeur drove off, in the direction of the airport. 

The drive felt like hours. Days even. I wasn’t going to reach him in time. It was all going too slow. “Put your foot down”, I said impatiently. Mycroft nodded again and the car sped up. He seemed to be in a good mood today, or maybe he just thought John was a good influence on me. Well whatever it was, he was keeping his mouth shut and was helping me get to John as fast as he could. I think this was the only time I’ve ever wanted to thank him. 

The car pulled up outside the airport and I flung the door open, “Sherlock”, Mycroft said quickly, catching my arm. I pulled it away, “what?”, I spat, angry that he was stopping me from running to John this very second. He handed me his ID card and I smiled, “thank you”. I jumped out of the car and ran inside, sprinting up the long ramp up to the top floor. I ran down a long corridor and got to the baggage area. I scanned the room but he wasn’t here. He must have already gone through. I ran towards the bag checks and flashed the ID card. “We’ll have to search you”, one of the workers said and I scowled, walking through the body scanner. It beeped and the man told me to hold my arms out. “Do you know who I am?”, I shouted, shoving the ID into his hands. He looked up at me and his mouth formed an _'O'_ shape, “I’m very sorry sir, please carry on, my apologies sir”. I snatched back the ID card and ran past the duty free and came to a sudden halt. I looked up at the board and the top plane was boarding. The only one going to America within the next half an hour was boarding right now to Florida. _Shit._

It was at gate 34, which seemed like it was the furthest one that he could have possibly been at. I ran towards it, pushing past people, knocking over kids and kicking suitcases and bags out the way, “move!”, I shouted at a large crowd, dodging in and out of them whilst they shouted curse words at me in.. German I believe. I ran down the corridor, whilst the announcement rang overhead, “last chance to board the 1:45 plane to Florida, gate 34”. I used all the last energy I had to sprint even faster. This was a chase, but there was no thrill about it. It was me against time. I _had_ to get there. I ran into the boarding lounge and that’s where I spotted him. He was second in the queue, he would board any second. “John!”, I shouted, running towards him, _"John!"._ Everyone turned around, including him, “Sherlock?”. I grabbed hold of him and pulled him into a hug as tight as I could, “John you can’t leave. You _can’t_ leave. I need you. I need you at Baker Street. Who else is going to make me tea or make me eat or sleep when I need it? Who is going to tidy up my cuts and bruises when a case gets a bit messy? I need you at work. You and me, we’re good together. You make me smile and you make me laugh and I said I’d never say this to anyone because I don’t do sentiment but I have to say it to you because.. I love you. John Watson, I love _you”._ He looked up at me and laughed softly, tears rolling down his cheeks, “did I do something wrong?”, I said softly and he shook his head, grinning, “no Sherlock.. you did good”. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to my lips, making me smile. It felt nice. “I love you too Sherlock and.. I’m sorry for shouting at you”, he whispered and wriggled out of my arms, holding out his hand for me to take, “no, I’m sorry, really I am”. I grabbed hold of it and he smiled up at me, “home?”. I nodded and squeezed his hand, "home".


End file.
